Metal Gear Solid: Savage Squirrel
by sollomon
Summary: A rookie Diamond Dogs goes on a dangerous search and rescue operation.
1. En Media Res

The hot Afghanistan sun burned down on the desert dunes. The wind pulled the grains from their piles and shot them through the air. Savage Squirrel reached around the back of his head and tightened the bandana shielding his mouth from the bullets of sand. He sat cross legged at the peak of a dune, a rifle resting across his lap. His hand ran over the battered wooden furniture of the FAL. Meticulous cleaning had payed off. Even with the sand filled air, it would take some time and use before the rifle would start to malfunction from the harsh weather.

Savage caught a glint of light in his peripherals, limited by the goggles though they were. As he looked up he slowly turned the wheel on the edge of the bulky EVD's strapped to his face. As his vision zoomed in through the device, he focused in on the truck. The emblem on the hood of the main truck of the trio confirmed his target, the yellow circle and arabic type sloppily painted over a USSR logo confirmed them as the Afghani rebel convoy he had been waiting for. Savage pressed his hand against the side of his ear.

"I got 'em. Three vehicles, two jeeps, one of them with a mean .30. One truck. Covered. Should have our man."

"Copy. You have go ahead from K." The voice crackled in his ear. " Watch your fire on the main truck, cloth rarely catches bullets."

"I can't say I know anybody that'd beg to differ. Everything is set up. Better start up the helo now, depending on how this goes I might need a quick evac."

"Planning on getting shot?"

"I set high hopes and low expectations. That way you never lose. Almost here. Can you hold?"

The jeep leading the convoy trundled up to the rock Squirrel had used to mark his IED, a rewired mortar shell he had cobbled together in lieu of some real plastics. He sat up, pulling the detonator from his pocket. The front bumper of the lead car was even with the rock. Squirrel depressed the detonator.

Click.

Click. Click. The lead car rolled by uneventfully, the covered truck right behind it.

Click click click clickclickclick.

Boom. The bomb detonated even with the front wheels of the truck, shoving the truck up and over on to its side. The jeep behind it with the mounted .30 cal skidded to a stop. It took a moment before the lead realized what was happening, and slammed itself around.

Savage Squirrel paused, stood stock still atop the dune. Things were not going as planned. A lone figure atop a dune is an easy thing to spot, thus in moments the dune was smashed apart by the mounted gun. The gunfire snapping by his head yanked Savage out of his daze. Gripping his gun, Savage took a light hop off the peak of the dune and dug his heels in as he slid down the steep slope, leaving a plume of sand behind him along with the bullet hits. He rattled of several shots towards the lead car as its two passengers emerged in confusion before the bullets slammed into the metal.

Coming to the end of the slope, Squirrel's feet collided with the compacted sand of the road, and he channeled the momentum of the slide into a quick roll up to the cloth roof the back of the overturned truck. Squirrel pulled the pin on a smoke grenade and slammed it into the sand. The .30 continued its rapport along with the shouts of the soldiers trying to coordinate among the chaos. The smoke filled the air,so thick that Savage could barely see a few feet in front of him. He pulled a switch on his goggles, swapping to thermal vision. The ground lit up before him, the sun baking heat into it all day. He leaned out to the rear of the truck, towards the jeep with the mounted gun. The outlines of the truck and men became clear, and the barrel of the .30 glowed red hot. As the smoke obscured him, he shouldered his rifle and took a quick shot at the confused gunner, who crumpled to the ground.

Savage whirled around and switched back to normal vision, pulling his knife with his left hand. Slicing through the cloth covering of the truck, he pulled apart the folds, exposing the shaking figured inside. The slight man lay on the now-bottom of the tipped vehicle bed, clutching at his right leg, which was bent at a grotesque angle at the calf. Savage stepped into the bed of the truck. The Soviet divison commander swung his head around to see him, his eyes filled with fear.

"Comdiv, I'm afraid things haven't gone quite as planned, but I assure you everything is under-" A grenade exploded near the front of the truck. Gunfire sliced through the smoke outside. "control. Now its time to get you out of here. Stand back please. Or, well, slide back."

Savage Squirrel pulled what looked like a tube of toothpaste from his bandolier. He applied the thick liquid in a large circle around what used to be the bottom of the truck bed. Then, with a small aerosol can, he sprayed around the paste and stood back as the paste began to glow bright red. The thermite concoction burned quickly through the bottom of the truck. Savage kicked the core of the truck bed out and picked up the Soviet, placing him roughly outside the truck before exiting himself. As the jeeps on opposing sides fired into the dissapating smoke, Squirrel hefted the commander over his shoulder and quickly made his way away from the firefight.

"I got him. Things didn't quite go to plan though..." He said, slowly trailing off.

"Meaning?"

"Nothing, lets just say he's not doing any 500m dashes any time soon. Is evac inbound."

"Its a klick out. Is there any engagements the pilot should be ready for?"

"You wound me. No, the tango's left might have a direction we went, but those jeeps probably can't make it through those dunes." Savage said, looking back over the rough terrain.

As the chopper touched down, it's blades blew the loose sand up and around Savage and the commander. Savage stepped on to the chopper, placing the Soviet on a seat and closed the side door as the helo pulled away. The Comdiv coughed roughly from the sand before looking around in confusion.

"Who are you people?" He said, in a thick Russian accent.

Savage Squirrel pulled his sleeve down, tapping the patch on the shoulder.

"Diamond Dogs. Big Boss would like a word."


	2. Homecoming

-2-

Savage Squirrel awoke abruptly as his stomach jumped into his throat, the chopper pulling back to right itself again as it set down on the helipad. He pushed himself up to his feet, rubbing the short beard he had grown over his stay in Afghanistan. Savage placed his hands on his hips and stretched out his back as the side door slid open. Placing one foot on the pad, he looked back and motioned at the Soviet, swinging his hand toward the intimidating orange structure outside.

"This is our stop, _Comdiv_. I'm afraid we don't have time for the grand tour, so we'll be skipping right to the Q and A." Savage said, a grin crawling across his face.

The Soviet commander pushed himself further into his seat as Savage leaned in, grabbing his wrist. As he was pulled out, the light flooded his eyes. Adjusting, he saw the web of orange, octagonal struts sprawling before him, sitting high above a featureless, unending sea. The size and scope of Mother Base awed him, carefully putting weight on his newly splinted leg, relaxing his muscles for a brief moment before a heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder. The soldiers suddenly surrounding the Soviet cut an intimidating sight, faces covered with balaclavas and red berets atop their heads. The soldiers pushed him ahead, herding the limping man towards an entrance to the belly of Mother Base. Savage Squirrel jogged behind.

"Now guys, that really doesn't seem necessary, does it? We did rescue him after all. If anything, he should be grateful! We could probably just give him some directions and-"

One of the soldiers turned around, letting his head droop to one side, his eyes humorless. The intended message was communicated as Squirrel held up his hands in mock surrender before making a zipper motion across his mouth. He followed them in silence as they wound their way down several flights of stairs to the brig. The beret'd soldiers opened a heavy door and shooed the Soviet in. As he went to follow, one placed his hand firmly in Savage Squirrel's chest. Savage took a step back.

"All yours." He said, stepping back, expecting the soldier to pull the door closed after he stepped in, but instead the simply stood quietly for a moment.

Savage raised an eyebrow at the man, who held up his index finger. Leaning out to check the far side of the hallway he and the door were blocking from Savage's view, the soldier quickly pulled back and went rigid to attention. Savage raised his eyebrow further, the soldier only motioning his head to something down the hallway. He could hear two sets of footsteps, one heavy and one irregular, a three-step rhythm, hard soft soft. He leaned his body out to see down the hall.

Big Boss cut an intimidating figure coming down the hall. Wide and tall, his figure was only enhanced by the heavy sneaking suit he wore, lightly coated with hardening mud evidently from a recent mission. His face hard, he seemed barely listening to Miller.

"Boss, there's just a couple more things to deal with, that FOB got hit while you were out, we didn't lose much but it's defenses could probably be bolstered." Miller stepped along behind him, supplementing his new prothstetic with a crutch he used with his left hand. "There's a couple research plans for you to sign off on and-"

"Later." He uttered. The gruff voice stopped the conversation dead as he continued towards the door.

Savage Squirrel yanked himself backwards to where he was unseen behind the door. He looked at the soldier, widening his eyes. The soldier pointed it his own posture, indicating Savage should do the same. He quickly slid his feet together, shot his arms to his side and pulled his whole body taught.

He held his breath as Big Boss stepped around the corner. As he passed Savage flicked his eyes up at him as he passed, spotting the silhouette of his horn of shrapnel protruding out of his head. Realizing what he was doing, he shot his eyes back down. He felt the Boss catch him pulling his eyes down, and as he stepped into the room he almost saw a hint of a smile. Looking back to the soldier, he saw him briefly relax as he walked in behind the Boss and closed the door. It took a second before Savage noticed Miller was still standing outside with him.

Pivoting left to Miller, he staggered out his tightly held breath, slowly releasing some of the tension in his muscles.

"Sir?"

"That was some decent work in Afghanistan. I looked over the report, was it your intention to detonate on the truck transporting the target?" Kazuhira said, shifting on his prosthetic.

"Er, no. It seems I made a mistake in constructing my IED, and as such it took several attempts to detonate, by which time the lead car I had intended to hit had rolled by and I didn't realize the transport was in position when I got it to detonate." He stammered out, nervous about his mistake. "Uh, sir."

"I see. Before you head out for your next Op, go get some more training on explosives from Expert Elephant in Support. You got damn lucky the package wasn't hurt _too_ bad, and one day your luck is going to run out, it does for all of us."

Savage resisted the temptation to glance at Miller's leg

"Next Op, sir?" He said, tentative on the concept to return to action so quickly.

"Later, Squirrel. Talk to Expert and get rested up first."

Before Savage had time to further question Miller, he swung around and started down the hallway. Savage tapped his foot for a moment, unsure of exactly what had just happened. He rubbed his hand against his short beard again before shrugging to himself and heading back towards his quarters.


	3. Companionship

-3-

"This seems pretty stupid…" Savage said, tapping his foot unsurely, tentatively holding the detonator. He glanced around the shielded room, blackened from hours of explosives training.

"That's the point!" Expert Elephant exclaimed, relaxed behind him in a lawn chair, his hands behind his bald head. "It's all about confidence! With this, you're showing that you are confident enough in your own skills to stand behind your own shaped charge!"

Savage was quiet for a moment, eyeing the cone of explosives a foot away facing towards the far wall..

"It just… seems _really stupid_."

"Do you think the blast is going to hit you?"

"Well, no but-"

"Do you think I'm going to hit you?"

"Well, yeah but-

"So if I said either you hit that detonator or I'm going to hit you, which would you choose?"

Savage eyed Expert's tree-trunk like arms and colossal hands. He sighed as he flipped up the red cover of the switch. He pulled himself back, prepared for the worst as he hit the switch. The plastic explosives detonated, sending out a quick flash of light and a thump Squirrel felt in his chest. Blinking a couple times he quickly checked himself to make sure he still had all his pieces. As he sighed in relief, Elephant's huge hand slapped him on the back, nearly toppling him over.

"That's what I'm talking about! Confidence! You aren't totally there yet, but any man willing to let himself get blown up is alright by me."

Squirrel squinted his eyes at Expert, pulling his mouth taught and wondering if he understood exactly what he had just said. The idea slowly crossed Elephant's face.

"I mean, uh, not in like a suicide bomber way… like a, uh, you know… bravery… thing…" He stumbled through his thought, trying to sort out his ideas. "Well… forget it. You did good, that's the important thing!"

"I gotcha." Savage started walking towards the door, pivoting backwards to the huge man. "Look, we should be able to get some dinner in the Mess, are you hungry? Near-death experiences seem to whet my appetite."

Elephant held his arms wide and looked down over his immense body, from his black tank top covering his barrel chest to his tree trunk legs stretching the fabric of his camo pants.

"Do I look like a man who misses a meal?" He said, before laughing heartily and starting towards the door with Savage.

"Jesus christ, man!" Savage Squirrel exclaimed when he saw Expert carrying three trays of food back to their table. "They gave you all that?"

"All the cooks know I could blow 'em to high hell any time, so they are a little more lenient with me." A grin emerged from his squar face.

A tall, lanky man slid down the metal bench toward the two, his blonde hair slicked back.

"Careful, Elephant. Eat any more and they'll have to give you a whole deck!" He said, twirling his plastic silverware around his fingers, buggy eyes sizing up Expert and Squirrel. He jerked his head to the side as a dinner roll rocketed past. "Portion control! Good start, my friend!"

Savage chuckled as he forked meat into his mouth.

"Don't encourage him Squirrel!" Elephant said, slamming himself down onto the bench. "Maybe if you ate a little more, Gecko, you might stop shivering when we're north of Africa!"

"Being cold is solved by putting on a coat. Being fat is not, my friend!"

"This ain't blubber, Grin!" Expert flexed his bicep, displaying the enormity of it.

"Alright alright, this is getting a little _too_ homoerotic for my tastes" Savage said, trying to get them out of this unending loop of banter.

Expert Elephant and Grinning Gecko were both silent for a moment. Gecko pushed his head up quickly.

"And that's saying something!" He said, starting to laugh halfway through the sentence. Elephant shot a mouthful of peas into the air as he fell back in hysterics. Savage could not help but smile as he smacked Grin upside the head.

Chuckling, the three sat for a while, enjoying the food and the company.

"Gecko, how'd that Colombia thing go?" Squirrel said, pointing his spoon accusingly.

"Barely even had to do any fighting, I took a uniform the military had from a rebel prisoner, slipped over a fence and walked right in. Once I put the leader down, I just had to hold the reins on the military while the rebel's crumbled into each other." He waved his knife around, as if trying to paint a picture before them. "You gotta love a simple Op, my friend. And the Colombians, they payed gold! Gold!"

"D'you take it?" Elephant said, looking up from his second tray of food.

"Of course I took it, it's gold! I will take gold over dollars any day, my friend. Dollars inflate, gold only scuffs."

A stout man walked over briskly, a thick moustache hanging from his lip. Savage kicked Elephant in the shin, indicating the approaching man. Expert quickly shoveled in a mouthful of meat before swinging around to face the man.

"Elephant, why are you sitting around here getting fatter? Recruits are in your room, and we can't send in people that don't know how to pull the pin on a goddamn grenade!"

"On my way, Boxer." Elephant went to grab his third meal before it was yanked away from him and dumped into a nearby trash recepticle. Elephant stepped close to the man, nostrils flaring. "You better watch yourself, Boxer." Expert pushed past him and stormed back to his training room.

Savage and Gecko both shrugged before wolfing down their meals and leaving the mess hall. Savage Squirrel quietly pocketed an roll, heading up to the ocean air.

Savage sat leaned up against the barrier on the top deck of the strut. He enjoyed the brief serenity of looking over the open sea as he nibbled on the roll. Mother base seemed both familiar and foreign still, even after the 4 months he had been aboard. The life on base was not much different than aboard the Canadian aircraft carrier he had been aboard when he first enlisted a few years ago. The food, the cramped quarters, both uncomfortable and bizzarely cozy, Squirrel always got the sense he enjoyed it more than some of his comrades did.

He could not say the same for the Egyptian prison he had spent a little over a month in after a peacekeeping operation went poorly to say the least. The black man in the cell next to his, Vile Crab, was the first to tell Savage about Diamond Dogs. For the duration of their stay in the prison, Savage entertained the thought of the PMC, but consistently tossed it away as the delusions of an imprisoned man. Vile naturally turned out to be correct, and it was he who during his rescue insisted the other Diamond Dogs take Savage too. He always meant to repay Vile for the rescue, he didn't like having a favor open like that.

Squirrel was pulled from his thoughts by his iDroid going off, signaling for him to report in for his next assignment.

"Never a dull moment." Squirrel pulled himself up, before throwing the roll off into the sea. He cracked his knuckles as he bustled back inside to get his assignment, turning his back on the peace of the ocean to get another mission of war.


	4. Incitement

-4-

Savage hustled into the briefing room in a jog. Miller stood leaned against a wall, taking weight off his prosthesis. He held a thick folder in his hand.

"Uh oh." Savage stopped dead in his tracks. Miller personally showing up was a bad sign, and the grim faces on the other two members of the intel team didn't help. Miller stepped toward him, holding out his closed fist.

"An operative in Vietnam recieved this a few days ago."

He tentatively held out an open palm, and Miller dropped the item, it hit his hand with little weight. He blinked at the two patches in his hand. Savage pushed the Diamond Dogs patch aside, seeing only the name tag. His mouth went dry.

"Vile Crab."

"We lost contact with him almost two months ago on a deep Op in Laos. This is the first we've heard from him since he went missing. Look at the back of the tag."

Squirrel turned it over in his hand. A note was scrawled onto the back of the patch.

 _Thank him for setting me free_

"Wha- um, wait that doesn't make any sense, right?" Squirrel flicked his eyes back and forth, recreating the events of their rescue.

"I know, I read through the report on the operation to rescue you two. Am I correct in saying it seems more like he who freed you?" Miller flipped open the folder, looking for reference on the event

"I uh, yeah, yeah I really didn't orchestrate it or anything. He just took me along." He stared blankly at the patch in his hands. His eyes shot back to Miller. "You said he was on an Op? What was it?"

Miller handed Savage Squirrel the weighty folder, and Squirrel began rifling through it.

"Vile Crab was assigned to a covert operation for a contract with a general in Laos. An elite death squad of Viet Cong moved into the country after the Laos monarchy was toppled, they have been gaining a lot of followers in the military, many of whom were former allies with the general. Vile was inserted via Cambodia to locate and neutralize the original members."

"What do we have on this death squad?" Savage flipped through the folder until he saw a photograph of a member. Short and wiry, the shirtless man looked undoubtedly horrific with the multitude of slashed scars, each a precise but deep vertical dash, hundreds spanning his whole chest and arms. The thin man held his rifle by the stock, letting it droop down towards the ground, which was littered with corpses as a hut burned behind him. His eyes were shrouded by a hanging fern, the photographer evidently hidden in the bushes. Squirrel's eyes widened.

"Our intel is highly limited, and what we do have seems more like rumour than actual fact. We do have their name though. The Con Trai Tan Sat. It roughly translates to _The Children of Massacre_ "

"Children of Massacre?"

"Did you ever hear of My Lai? It was a village in North Vietnam. The only reason anyone remembers it today was because during the Vietnam War, a battalion of US soldiers killed hundreds of men, women and children, but only one man was ever found guilty of war crimes, and he only served a few years house arrest. The My Lai Massacre is considered one of the United States greatest war crimes ever."

"And these men were survivors of the massacre?"

"Not just men. Women and children, along with relatives of the massacred, formed the makeshift unit. They quickly got a name for themselves among the grunts as some of the most silent and deadly groups in the war. In '70, the government sent in a team of Green Berets to try and exterminate them."

"And?" Savage was still flipping through the file. Miller turned the pages a few times, tapping a finger on a sun bleached photo. Four berets were pierced onto a spike, amid a still smoldering rice paddy. "Jesus christ. And you sent Vile after these guys?"

"He volunteered."

"What do you need me for?" Savage flipped the folder closed. The thought of going after someone even Vile couldn't face wasn't pleasing to him.

"With or without Vile, we still need to eliminate the Children of Massacre for Laos. Vile Crab himself is your secondary objective. It should be a priority to find him, but Children come first." Miller shifted on his prosthetic.

"And what if I do find him?" Squirrel ran his hand over his mouth, tapping his foot anxiously.

"That depends on his status."

"Status?"

Miller sighed and adjusted his sunglasses.

"After the note, we're afraid he might have turned. You're gonna have to determine who's side he's on."

"What if he's not on ours?"

"We'll deal with that in the field. Get your gear together then get some rest. Tomorrow a chopper will take you onto land and we'll fly you in country. The same operative who got the note will take you as far in as he can get you, then it'll be up to you to complete your objective. Tell them if there's anything you need or somebody you want for support." Before he could object, Kazuhira pushed past him towards the door. Squirrel turned and opened his mouth, trying to form words he could not say. He sighed once again, turning back towards the two intel operatives.

"I gotta talk with Tech about the goggles. Can you get Gecko and Elephant on support?"

"Thats, uhhh, Grinning and Expert right? Sorry, this place has been growing pretty fast, it's a lot of names to keep track of."

"Yeah, I send all the intel you have to my iDroid. I'll see you in the morning." He put his hands behind his head and headed toward the R&D unit.


	5. Corpses

-5-

Savage hustled onto the helicopter, the jog made awkward by the two long gun cases he was carrying. He slid the pair of cases onto the chopper before dropping his pack roughly in the seat next to his. As he slid the door closed, he looked over his shoulder to the pilot.

"Satyr! I haven't seen you since, what South Africa?"

The skinny American leaned out over the edge of the seat, smiling a piecemeal grin, his mouth dotted with lost teeth.

"Still know a little Afrikaans after that, man!" He chuckled as he sat back in his seat, adjusting the his helmet. Savage pulled the stack of folders from his pack, flicking open the first one.

"Satyr, you even been to Vietnam?"

"Oh yeah, top left incisor! I was flying this great Huey, thing pulled like hell but ooh, she could fly, man! It was '68, and I'm flying into a base when I see a bird flying flying and…"

Savage let his head fall back, the rhythmic hum of the chopper blades and Satyr's rambling web of stories harmonized into a soothing white noise.

"Hey!" Satyr tapped on the metal, knocking Squirrel's head up. He glanced out the window to see land racing under him. "You awake man?

"You dropping me at the airport?" He cracked his neck sharply.

"There's been a change of plans, kinda. The airport was attacked a few hours ago by some local rebels, the plane you were supposed to get on is out of commission, but we gotta refuel so we're gonna have to land."

"Are the rebels still on site?" Squirrel preemptively pulled one of the rifle cases onto his lap.

"Haven't been any reports out since the attack, and local military, well, chances are equal this could _be_ the local military men, uh, man." The chopper tilted to the right, Squirrel held the case tightly to keep it from sliding off him.

Savage flipped the case open and started putting together his FAL. As he locked in the receiver, he looked between the two chopper doors on his sides.

"Which side are we coming in on?"

"Guys should be on the left."

"Your left or my left?"

"Uhhh…. that way." Satyr held out his left arm.

Savage pulled the door on his right open, and clipped in to keep from falling out. He slapped in the last part of the FAL, and pushed a spare rifle grenade into his jacket. A hand pulled the EVD's down, switching night vision on as dawn slowly crawled up on the horizon. Squirrel leaned out slightly to see the tiny private airport they were headed to, scanning the surrounding brush. The green night vision bloomed as machine gun fire bit into the sides of the helo. Ducking in from the fire, the dents from the bullets pushed in the interior metal slightly.

Squirrel flicked to thermal and spied a group of men advancing towards the dusty airport. Retaliating with his own spray of fire, the rounds kicked up dust around the group, stemming their advance as they cowered away, and one man dropped to the ground, clutching at his shin. He leaned back towards Satyr.

"Put her down and start refueling, I'll keep them down." He stepped back to the open door to see a technical with an aged flak gun mounted in the bed blazing towards the airport. "Make that double time, Satyr."

The flak truck skidded to a halt beside the team of men. The gunner frantically cranked the gun about towards the descending chopper, screaming commands to the others.

"Get that tower between us and them!" Savage yelled, pointing forward through the windshield towards the Air Traffic Control tower, before the chopper pitched to change course. Squirrel heaved the side door partially closed, hoping to protect the sensitive insides of the chopper, and himself.

The flak gave a heavy wump-wump as it volleyed alternating shots of shrapnel . Savage planted his feet as the side windows exploded inward from the attack, for an instant before the helo ducked behind the control tower. He frantically dug in his coat for the rifle grenade, screwing it onto the barrel before shoving the door open once more. The chopper peeked out from the tower, Savage leaning from the side. Spying the flak technical hurriedly rotating its guns about, he took aim with the lengthened FAL and fired. The kick from the bullet shoving the rifle grenade through the air pushed him off his feet, stumbling back, clasping onto a panel as he nearly slid off the helo. Pivoting, Squirrel caught the glimpses of the technical heaving upwards in chunks, men thrown from the combined blast of the grenade and the truck, along with its ammo, illuminating the dawn sky.

The chopper pulled back as it set down on the dusty landing pad. Satyr scrambled from the cockpit to the refueling station.

"I'll clear them out, check for survivors. You have a sidearm right?"

Satyr pulled a hefty Colt from his hip holster.

"So much for the pacifist act, huh S.?" Savage pulled the goggles up. Thermal wouldn't help with survivors, not this soon and especially after an explosion, and at this range any muzzle blast would blind him in night vision.

"I can't passively resist if I'm dead." Satyr managed to crack a smile, a sign he wasn't about to lose it from the fight.

"You still have those crappy cigars in the cabin?"

"Yeah, under the seat."

Savage stepped carefully through the wreckage of the technical, four or five bodies lay around, not counting the pair now fused into the truck. He lit the cigar, but did not raise it to his mouth, instead lowering it to the ground, its pungent smoke spilling out of it. Cautiously treading through the bodies, he held it towards their faces. A body began to cough. Squirrel readied his rifle and pushed the man over with his boot, face up.

The man's dark face was covered with ash, but he clutched at his stomach. A sizable knife was half lodged in his gut. Squirrel processed for a confused moment. A firm hand shot out and grabbed his ankle. Half turning, the hand pulled hard, slamming Savage onto his back, dazed. A small man released his hand and shot over him, a blackened machete held high to strike.

Still dazed, Savage pulled his FAL up across his to deflect, the machete scoring into the metal of the receiver. The rest of the small man's body fell downward with the blow, landing crouched with a thump above Squirrel's stomach, his feet on either side of Savage's torso. Savage saw the man's face up close, the tight asian features gnawed away on the top left side by a horrific malady, showing blackened, sick flesh and even through to deep muscle and bone. Maggots squirmed around the wound. One dropped onto Squirrel's chest.

"Jesus christ-" Pulling a leg up, he kicked at the man's torso sending him back off him. The man tumbled into a roll and regripped his machete, emitting a howling laugh.

"A clever trick with the cigar American fool." He held open his mouth with a wide grin, showing his rotting teeth. "It would have worked on any other."

"That man- a decoy?" Savage aimed his rifle carefully, sitting up from the fall. "Stabbing your own man. No honor among thieves?"

"We are no thieves- we are soldiers. And he was not one of us, none of them were, hired guns are cheap in Africa."

"Did you plan for the body trick?"

"Oh no, I planned for the gun to shoot you down. The switch was luck. Luck that it played into my skills." His face suddenly darkened. "I was there, when your people came to My Lai, American. They shot my wife and child without seeing me. When your soldiers came to the bodies, just as you did, I played dead. I layed in the blood of my family for two days." He pulled his head down and stretched the skin, exposing more diseased flesh on the side of his face. "As the maggots came I could not move to stop them. I watched as they ate at my wife and daughter, and I sat still as they ate at me. I am the Rotting Man, American. I will let the maggots eat you as well."


	6. Blades

The two men circled each other. Savage Squirrel carefully maintained a bead on the small asian man.

"Canadian."

The Rotting Man cocked his remaining eyebrow up in confusion.

"I'm not American, I'm Canadian. 'My people' had nothing to do with My Lai. If anything we were against the war, 'we' housed thousands of men dodging the draft. Our only troops were as a part of the peace accords." Savage said through the bandana around his face, slowly reaching with his off hand towards his belt.

The Rotting Man cracked a smile.

"You know so little about your own country, boy. Your country made billions selling weapons to your American friends. Engines for planes, ammunition, napalm, Agent Orange. Have you seen what Agent Orange does to children, Yukon?"

"I might when I get into Laos." He let his rifle drop, pulling the sling taught as he pulled the pin on the smoke grenade and tossed it forward.

The asian swung in a downward strike at the grenade, hitting it mid air and slicing into the side. The machete broke open the canister, spraying smoke and chemicals around him. The man dashed backwards as the cloud quickly expanded, Savage pulling his bandana tighter around his mouth and his goggles down over his eyes. Flicking to thermal mode, he swept about the spread of bodies, scanning with his rifle horizontally, before catching a prone silhouette of yellow and red heat, head flicking back and forth in the smoke, coughing lightly from the chemicals of the grenade. Savage sprayed at the silhouette, catching him in the shoulder and kicking up an obscuring dust as the man dashed away.

He frantically looked for the asian again before a blade sung down on his left, slicing across the left bicep. Turning to face his attacker, he swung the FAL around only for it to be glanced aside by a blow from the machete. Desperate, Squirrel slammed his head into the obscured man, using the force to tackle him to the ground. The two squirmed in the smoke, holding each others weapon away from themselves. The Rotting Man stuck the end of the gun deep into the sand and tore off Squirrel's goggles, exposing his eyes to the chemicals. Savage flinched instinctively only for the asian to toss him off and disappear into the smoke. He got back on to his feet, checking his gun. The weapon was choked with sand, without cleaning it would likely jam or break the receiver. He dropped it to hang from the sling, pulling the knife from his vest. He held it tightly and point down, just as Diamond Dog's had taught him.

The smoke began to dissipate and drift with the wind, increasing visibility if only to a foot or so in front of his eyes. He slowly stepped through the splayed bodies, looking for one out of place. He paused in the center, listening intently.

He heard a muffled, stifled cough from the spray of chemicals.

As soon as the sound began, Savage spun around to his left where the Rotting Man was shooting up from under another body. As the man leapt up, Savage slammed the knife deep into the right side of the man's gut. Exhaling from the wound, the Rotting Man relaxed slightly, giving Squirrel the opening he needed. Pulling the right arm holding the machete taught, he brought his elbow down hard on the forearm, cleanly breaking the bone. The asian reeled backward howling in pain. Savage yanked the machete from his hand and swiftly slashed it into the other side of the asian's gut. The wind blew away the last of the smoke.

The Rotting Man stared down at the blades on both sides of his stomach, the gashes profusely leaking blood. He spluttered out a laugh through the blood in his mouth before collapsing to his knees.

"A damned Canadian." He said, his face contorting from confusion, to amusement, to hate. "The others will pay you in kind."

Gritting his bloody teeth in pain, the Rotting Man began to grab and tear at the deep, diseased flesh on his face. Peeling back the blackened skin and muscle, pus and blood oozing forth, he began to scream. Not a scream of pain, solely of fury and hate, releasing an entire war's worth of bile in a single, howling noise blowing throughout the desert. Squirrel was frozen by the scene. As the last of the scream fell from his mouth and his flesh peeled all the way down to his jaw, the Rotting Man slumped forward in a lasting silence.

Savage paused, taking in the sheer horror of the scene before looking up to see Satyr behind the body, Colt in a shaking hand raised at the corpse.

"What the hell was that, man?!" Satyr said, his voice quivering.

Savage pulled the bandana down from his face and ran his hands through his hair, exhausted.

"One of the Children of Massacre, I gather." He said, trying to regain his senses after the fight. "The Rotting Man."

"Does that mean there's more of these things?" Satyr said as he lowered his gun.

"Almost certainly."

Squirrel walked about the clearing looking for his EVDs. Plucking them from the consuming sand, he shook them slightly, loosening a significant amount of sand.

"Are you sure he's dead, man? I've seen people survive crazy things…"

"I don't know if you saw what I saw, but I think people can't live after peeling off half their faces and screaming out their soul." He indicated the face as he pulled his knife carefully from the man's body. "Are we all set?"

"Y- Yeah, should be all fueled up to get to the next stop." He said, Savage shot him a concerned look. "Don't worry, this one's secure."

"It better be. Get her started up, I'll make a call in."

He dropped his gear in the chopper at sat in the back, talking to Mother Base.

"I think I just ran into the first of the Children. Called himself the Rotting Man, part of his face was eaten away by maggots, used it to hide among bodies."

"Confirmed neutralized?" Base crackled into his ear.

"I just saw the guy yell his soul out and peel off half his face with two blades deep in his guts. Hes done."

"Copy. Good work."

"Do we know how many Children there are?" He said, starting to disassemble his FAL to rid it of the choking sand.

"From your report that wasn't one of their regular fighters. There's approximately 20 guerillas, but your man sounded like one of the founders. Reports place them at about five originally, but they might have taken some losses over time."

"Oh hell."


	7. Cruis'n Laos

Savage Squirrel stretched out as the chopper door opened, letting the soft Laos twilight bleed in.

"This is your stop man. I'll see you on extraction!" Satyr said, leaning back over the seat. "Remember, red smoke. And you'll have to clear an LZ before I can touch down."

"Got it. See you in a couple days, Satyr." He said, picking up the rifles cases and his pack.

"Good luck, man.."

Savage could only muster an acknowledging nod before he stepped of the helo. He didn't have to walk far, the other Diamond Dogs agent was waiting in a civilian car a few feet away. Savage scanned the horizon of the small Laos city, not terribly different from the other tiny cities dotted around the country.

Squirrel leaned up to the drivers window, tapping to get the agent's attention. The bulky dark skinned man seemed comical in the small vehicle clearly designed for a smaller, asian frame. He only adjusted the tinted aviator sunglasses and turned a page on his magazine.

"So gracious of them to send me a chauffeur." He said, eyeing up the man.

"Get in the back and put some civvie clothes on. You're already a target as an American, an American in military fatigues is a death wish." He said stoically, still not looking up.

"Canadian." Savage said as he stepped into the back, covering up with a slightly too big hawaiian shirt. "Good to meet you. You're the one that got the patches, right?"

"Thats correct." He said, turning around, a long black mane of hair trailing down to his mid back. "Wild Stallion."

He held out a hand for a shake, which Squirrel obliged. Stallion clamped down on his hand, squeezing and gauging Squirrel's reaction. Savage tried to counter with a tighter grip, but Stallion's hand was solid muscle, clamping down. Squirrel winced and raised an eyebrow. Stallion's stone face broke into a grin.

"Good try, though not quite enough!" He slapped a firm hand on his shoulder, chuckling. "Alright, we're taking this piece of crap to the edge of town where there's a truck waiting for us. He'll take us as far into the jungle as he can, we'll make the rest of the way on foot."

"Where are we heading?" Savage said, shaking the pain from his hand. Stallion started the car and began to drive from the helipad.

"There's some old ruins way out that the locals have been hearing strange things from." He said, eyeing his rear view mirror. "The Children probably have an outpost there. Its worth checking out. With caution, of course."

"Tell me about it. I already ran into one of them on my stop in Africa."

Wild looked up.

"You ran into one? In Africa?"

"I think so."

"They must really want you then, I've never even heard of one moving out of the region." He said, pushing strands of hair back over his head. "What happened?"

"He got some local guns to attack the airport. I got them on our way in with a rifle grenade, but he hid among their bodies. Came at me with a machete, I eventually got him. Guy was nuts, half his face was rotten, when he was almost dead he just tore at it. I don't know."

"That sounds like the Thoi Rua Dan, the Rotting Man."

"Thats what he called himself, yeah."

"I wasn't sure he even existed. He's supposed to be one of the big three, the original survivors. People talk about him in whispers. I don't know what you did to piss them off that much, but it must have been some serious shit."

"Original founders?"

"Yeah, the story goes the Children were founded by only three survivors of My Lai, with the other two joining up shortly making them into a real unit. Now their ranks are growing fast, spreading into Laos."

"Who are the other members?" Savage said, looking out the window as the city passed by.

"Reports are sketchy at best, not many people make it away from them alive, but they say there's a man, a woman, a kid, and something nobody can identify. Their leader is still unknown, but we know he was one of the survivors. Sounds like you took down the man."

"Whats the other thing you mentioned?"

"Nobody can say for sure. We only know something else exists because any prisoner we get back keeps talking about something else. It could be a hallucination from torture or an unknown member. All we know is that if you get captured, something is going to tear your mind apart. " Stallion adjusted the rear view mirror. "Do you have a pistol or something?"

"No, why?"

"Because you won't be able to maneuver those rifles around the car real well when the shooting starts."

Savage turned to look out the back window to see the car following them. The Laotian driver gunned it towards them, and the man in the passenger seat stuck half his body out the window, aiming a machine pistol. Savage threw himself down onto the seat as the window shattered, spraying glass over him.

"Cut into the seat, there's a gun in the foam!" Stallion yelled over the gunfire, flooring the gas pedal as the car raced through the tight city streets.

The chase car got closer and closer to theirs, the gunner reloading. Squirrel sliced through the seat leather and tore at the cushion before pulling up the revolver.

"Got it!" He yelled, cocking the hammer.

"Hang on." Stallion yanked the e-brake and cranked the wheel to the right, sliding the car sideways, putting it perpendicular to the chase car. He pulled a solid semi automatic from beside the brake up to bear. "Shoot."

Savage hammered away with the revolver, raising from the seat and firing through the right window at the driver. The first shot hit the driver in the chest, the next two tracing a line up. Wild fired at the gunner with his pistol, clipping him in the stomach. As the driver clutched at his chest, he pressed his foot even harder against the gas pedal, flooring the car straight towards theirs.

"Oh shi-" Stallion got out before the car slammed into them.

Savage Squirrel barely had time to curse before he was tossed back from the impact, and the world went black.


	8. Hitting the Fan

Savage Squirrel was kicked awake to the sounds of gunfire. He glanced up from the hard Laotian pavement to see Stallion spraying rifle power over the roof of the car, which was pushed up at about a slight angle, propped from the former chase car rammed into the side.

"Is that my FAL?" He said, looking worriedly around at the cars in the now deserted street.

"Yeah!" Wild yelled over the gunfire as he ducked down from a spray of bullets. "Sorry, princess, but I had to reach for the first thing around. Haven't had a chance to grab my own. Now that you're up-"

Stallion shoved the FAL at him and ran over to the trunk. Savage peeked over the car to see two more had shown up while he was out, blocking the road and with a spread of men hiding behind them, Kalashnikovs aimed at the car. He dropped down from a hail of gunfire. Squirrel glanced over to see Stallion pulling the tiger striped Thumper grenade launcher from the trunk, the bandolier of grenades hanging from his arm.

"Oh no."

"Oh yes." Stallion said, inserting a grenade then flicking it closed. He held the weapon high, letting this settle around him, hearing only the shouts of the men behind the cars. There was a solid thump from the gun and a moment before the explosion hit. The men yelled and screamed. "We gotta move. Take the essentials."

Savage quickly rifled through his pack, taking his goggles and grenades and extra magazines. Stallion pulled the bandolier around his torso and glanced over the cars to see his handiwork. Savage looked up too.

"That looks like bad news." He said succinctly. Stallion nodded.

The thin framed figure came running through the chaos, sealed in a shining rubbery skin suit clinging tight to her lanky, almost unfeminine body.

The two men shared a brief glance before turning tail and sprinting away.

"This doesn't seem very noble." Squirrel said as he followed Stallion down a nearby alleyway.

"There may be a time to be noble and fight the Children, but this is _absolutely not that time_." Wild grabbed a motorcycle leaned up against the wall, kicking out the stand.

"You think that was one of them?" Savage sat behind him backwards, aiming down the alley the way they came. A pair of men stepped out to the entrance then quickly stepped back from the bullet spray from his FAL.

"I know a freak when I see one." Wild revved the the bike and jerked forward, as the woman came sprinting around the corner, sending out plumes of dust and pulverized asphalt from her superhumanly fast and forceful strides.

"Yep that'd be one of 'em!" Savage slammed a new mag into the gun as she gained on them. He sent a sweeping spray of rounds she ducked and dodged, shooting alongside the left side of the bike. As she ran alongside them, Stallion looked over to see her face, all but hidden by a latex mask, the mouth dotted with breathing holes and glass lenses hiding her eyes.

In a single smooth move, she peeled the glove off her left hand, exposing the pink and warped flesh, horribly burned. She surged forward, placing her hand on the front tire and her other underneath the bike. The spinning tire went up in a cloud of fire and smoke in an instant, and the rim suddenly coated with burnt, bubbling rubber slamming, grinding into the ground. The sudden increase in friction made the bike lurch forward, and the woman pushed up the middle of the bike, flipping it over around the front wheel.

"Oh shi-"

As the bike flipped into the air, both men were thrown off, bumping and skidding a few feet down as the bike slammed into the ground upside down. The woman continued on her sprint straight at them as Savage pulled his FAL up. Her ungloved hand shot forward, grabbing the wooden guard as he squeezed the trigger, spraying harmlessly into the air. The wooden grip burst into flames and Squirrel yelped, pulling his hand back from the intense heat. The woman turned the gun around in her hands, aiming it at him before a grenade smacked into her head, not detonating, but shattering one of the lenses over her eyes.

"Lets go!" Stallion yelled, holding the thumper.

Savage scrambled away as the woman yelled in pain, tearing the hawaiian shirt open and tossing a stun grenade behind him. Both of them looked away as the street was filled with a bright white light and a loud bang.

"Why didn't that grenade blow?!" Savage yelled over the ringing in his ears as they ran down the street.

"Needs an arming range!" Stallion pulled a grenade out of his bandolier and flicked open the Thumper.

"How far?"

"About this far!" He clicked the grenade launcher closed and pivoted around to the woman, standing up, shaking the ringing from her head. "Burn this one!"

The launcher gave a hearty thump as the shell arced through the air, exploding at her feet, raising a plume of disintegrated asphalt and dust. Wild Stallion grabbed Squirrel's arm and pulled him to a nearby door which he slammed through.

Closing it behind them, Savage turned to see a family of three huddled in a corner. He held a finger up to his mouth and held up a hand for them to stop. Stallion leaned against the door, listening. Squirrel flicked between him and the family as Wild slowly reached for his pistol. Savage listened intently. Parting away the whimpers of the family and his own breath, he could hear the soft footsteps on the street. Wild cocked the slide of his .45 and the footsteps stopped.

The entire world seemed to hang for a moment, everyone perfectly still. Squirrel's finger twitched only slightly, still commanding silence amongst the family. The footsteps continued on. Stallion's hand relaxed, as did everyone else.

"The truck is nearby, if we take side streets we should be there in a couple minutes." Stallion took off toward the back door.

"Sorry for the interruption folks." Savage said, fully understanding that they fully did not understand him before following Wild out the door.

The pair navigated the web of alleys, markets and side streets with eyes wide, flicking about for a sign of a tail or attackers.

"That was my gun, man."

"I'm sure you can get a new one."

"I don't want a new one, I want my gun."

"Well, if you want to go back and pick it up from Latex Girl back there, I'm afraid you'll have to settle for the local cuisine."

"I can settle." Squirrel bumped into a local police officer. He held up a newly-stolen Tokarev pistol. "I am nothing if not resourceful."

Wild rolled his eyes. Squirrel tucked the gun into his waistband and buttoned up the hawaiian shirt.

"It should be right up here. I just have to signal to them that it's us and-" Stallion stopped as he stepped into the road on the edge of town where the truck should have been sitting. In its place was a burned truck with three charred bodies sprawled out before it. "Oh shit."

The pair spun around in unison only to be faced by a team of small asian men with Kalashnikovs aimed directly at them.

"You go left I go right." Savage whispered to his ally. Each turned to his side to see another few guerillas. "Good work."

A raspy, lilting voice called out to them in a heavy Vietnamese accent.

"Not many people have led me on such a chase." The pair turned to see the woman, her rubber outfit torn to shreds by the explosion, showing her whole body was covered in the same warped burns as her hand. "Or caused me so much pain. Not since the war."

"Sorry m'am, just lost tourists. Could you direct me to the-"

"Savage." A voice came from behind him. Squirrel spun around, drawing the Tokarev mid turn, aiming it towards the middle of the guerillas, who raised their guns higher, ready to fire. A man came through the group, pushing men and rifles aside. "Fashionable as ever."

"When in Rome, Vile." Savage said, not lowering the weapon from the black man, with the large beard and head shaved bald. Squirrel could hardly recognize him. "May I ask what's going on here?"

"Repelling an invading force. That'd be you." He pointed sharply, before turning to the woman. "A'nh, you'd better get another suit."

The woman paused before walking off.

"Vile, I hope what I think has happened hasn't actually happened."

"I'm afraid it has, Sav. And if it worked for me it'll work for you. Put the gun down and let's talk." He placed a foreign hand on his shoulder.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Vile."

"Then do what you came here fore." Vile's hand shot out grabbing the hand holding the gun, pressing it to his own forehead. "Do it for the Dogs, huh?"

Savage felt his hand clench up, Viles thumb slowly pushing his trigger finger down.

"Savage-" Stallion piped up.

Vile's eyes flicked over to him, gun still pressed to his head.

"I didn't notice you brought friends. Take him." The men ran up to Wild, forcing the huge man to his knees. They said something to Vile. "No, don't kill him. He could be useful later."

"Vile-"

Vile twisted Squirrel's hand and pushed in sharply, breaking his first two fingers before delivering a few sharp blows to his head, fading him into darkness once again.

 _God damn it._


	9. Just Hanging Out

Savage came to abruptly, hanging from a hook by the heavy iron cuffs. His head throbbed, he could feel his eye swollen and bones in his nose grinding, broken at the bridge. He vainly spat the taste of pennies from his mouth before looking around the small hut. The air was hot and sticky, the smell of the jungle leaking in through the thatched roof and loose boards of the home. He saw Stallion hanging limp before him.

"Wild." No movement. "Wild." Still nothing. Squirrel turned his attention to the cuffs. He turned his focus to the cuffs, trying to swing his weight to get over the hook.

The scratch of a lighter igniting came from behind him, and Squirrel craned his neck around, twisting his body to see. Vile sat leaned back on a rickety chair, smoking a crude hand rolled cigarette.

"He's still out cold. Some of the men got back at him for their friends in the alley on the trip back." He took a long drag on the cigarette. "I kept them off you though. I wanted to get the pain over quick before we reach the inevitable"

"Inevitable?" Savage swung his weight slightly.

"Stay in this room long enough and you'll join the Con Trai." Crab rolled his shirt up, exposing his chest covered in long vertical scars, just like the photo from Kaz. "Everyone breaks."

Squirrel felt his mouth go dry as his eyes followed the jagged map of cuts down his torso. Stallion spat out a piece of a tooth as he stirred awake.

"It may seem bad now, Sav, but trust me. The Con Trai is a side worth fighting for." Vile blew a plume of smoke into the air as he paced between the hanging men. "They are in the right here."

"What happened to loyalty?" Savage tilted his head, looking at the empty space on Vile's loose fatigues where the patch he still had in his back pocket should have been. "What happened to Diamond Dogs?"

Vile sputtered out a chuckle through the smoke.

"Diamond Dogs is not a side. Diamond Dogs is an army, a nation without a side, without borders. There is no common ideology, no goal, just fighting. Without a goal, Diamond Dogs is meaningless. It did serve a purpose though." He said, looking up at the swirling smoke and making grand gestures. "It gave us a fresh start. It separated us from all the baggage and burden of our nation, letting us choose our own ideology from scratch. We can see everything on its own merits, we aren't controlled by the years and years of history from our country's wars and crimes and rivalries. We get to choose our nation, our world, our group, based on independent merits."

"The patch…"

"Exactly. In the US, we are always taught that we are the center of the world, the leaders of the free and home of the brave. Defenders of all that is righteous and good. But what really is America, Savage? Is it really Superman, or does it just tell its citizens that? Do you know what the US has done to people? The Indians? The Japanese? The blacks?" He drew his hand across his dark skin, glistening with sweat in the jungle heat. "The Vietnamese?"

The door to the hut creaked open, and the woman from before entered, pushing a figure cloaked in a burlap cloth in a crude wooden wheelchair. She wore a similar poncho over her rubber suit, now missing her face mask, exposing her warped, burned features.

Vile turned about to Wild Stallion, grabbing him by the mouth and squeezing his cheeks together. Wild yelped in pain.

"Where are you from, my guest?" Vile said, tension in his voice.

"Frrmk ymm" He spat out through the clamped jaw and cheeks.

"An'h, would you unveil our colorful friend?" He turned his head slowly to the covered figure in the chair.

The woman pulled the cloak back, revealing the horrible deformity only bordering on human. The legs of the creature were gnarled and malformed, crumpled together like twigs, as was its left arm. Its right arm was much thicker, as thick as the torso, widening to heavy sausage fingers. The entire beings body was dyed a sickly, inhuman splotchy orange, and dotted with lumpy warts and tumors. Its head oversized, lolling onto one shoulder, mouth hanging open without any teeth, wide, bloodshot eyes staring dead ahead.

Stallion began to shake wildly at the sight of the thing, rattling his chains and screaming curses through his clenched lips. Savage froze in horror, unable to move at the sight. Vile pulled a long knife from his belt.

"Now for the fun part." He mad a long incision down the right side of Stallions chest, deep enough to cut into the muscle. The woman rolled the chair forward as the orange being reached out his oversized hand. "Sav, other guy, I'd like you to meet Mr. Orange. Isn't he a beauty?"

Vile guided Orange's index finger deep into the cut, as Stallion screamed in agony. The hand and finger started to pulsate slightly but still visibly, sending heartbeats into the cut. Wild threw his head back, thrashing and rattling the chains that bound him as his veins went taught, popping out on his body, pulsating with each heartbeat.. Vile stepped back, holding his arms wide, beholding the scene.

Savage snapped out of the fear, and began rocking back and forth, trying to get his chains over the tip of the hook. He looked up, watching as he went back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, almost to the tip. He looked back to see the woman reaching out with an ungloved hand. She touched the right side of his forehead for a moment before he jerked away, streaking the burns back toward his ear from beside his right eyebrow. He screamed in pain as the skin burned and the woman stepped forward, placing her face a step from his. Squirrel swung left and right to try and shake the pain away and to shake off the burned woman.

"Seal him up, An'h."

The woman stepped back slowly, keeping her eyes on the writhing operative. She turned at the last second to Wild, his whole body clenched and only sputtering curses through his chattering teeth. Vile wheeled the deformed being away, spinning him toward Savage, still seething with pain. Squirrel locked eyes with the staring, bloodshot eyes of Mr. Orange. It was like a type of paralysis, frozen looking at each other as behind him the woman traced her finger slowly up the cut, cauterizing it as Wild shook violently before going limp. There was a pause as the smell of burnt flesh hung in the air.

"Well, that was quite a show." Crab put his hands on his hips and turned to Squirrel. "The first of many, if this 'young buck' is as strong as I think he is. Myself I made it through 23 sessions with Mr. Orange. Of course, I was always a bit stronger than you. We found that out in Egypt, didn't we?"

Savage was still breathing haggardly as Vile Crab drew the knife once again. As he cut below the sternum, Savage stared into Mr. Orange's eyes, and for a moment he saw a flicker of emotion cross his face. A mix of pain, hate and happiness encapsulated into one touch of emotion as the knife cut into his stomach, and he raised his bloated, tumor covered arm once again.


End file.
